Green Eyes in the Dark
by PikachuRainbows
Summary: Severus comes to his quarters to find a dead Harry Potter on the steps. He thinks nothing can be done, but then Harry miraculously comes back to the living, but with some new powers. What happens when Dumbledore forces an adoption? Will Harry allow Severus to get close enough to help him with his new powers as an animagus of many forms and the most powerful wizard of the century?
1. Forever Alone

The icy Potions Master was completely alone. Not alone in the physical way, no, Severus was surrounded by his pesky students nearly every day. But he was terribly lonely in his heart. Since his beloved Lily died, he had cared for no one, and no one cared for him. Well, maybe except Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster was like his father. And the Potter brat.

'I should hate that troublesome child' thought Snape moodily. For weeks now he had questioned himself if he really cared what happened to the twerp, and had sternly told himself that of course that he wouldn't care if the child was eaten by a herd of rabid griffins, but every time he repeated that, he subconsciously denied it as well.

He walked through the cold dungeons, sneering at every student who managed to get themselves lost in the dank and dark place. Sneering, he strode over to a group of first-year Hufflepuffs, who shied away from the looming shadow of the teacher. "5 points from Hufflepuff" echoed around the damp hallway, before Snape directed them in the right way, and it was the last punishment before Snape gave way to his tiredness and resided to his quarters.

Unlike the rumours going through most of the student body, his rooms weren't only black, green and silver, but were a pleasant chocolate brown colour, with a honey coloured trim, making the rooms as a whole quite cosy. He didn't bother correcting the rumours that went around him, such as him being a bat Animagus or even a vampire. A small snicker escaped his pale lips. "Best let them be afraid, it's the best way to shut them up" he murmured quietly to himself as he stepped through the swinging portrait of a red haired woman with startling green eyes. Severus glanced at the portrait as he passed it, and sighed. He seemed to do that a lot lately. The portrait of the woman was a constant reminder of who he lost, but he would not trade it for his life. 'Why did Lily's portrait have to be a Muggle one?' he wondered for the millionth time since she passed away. If it had been a magical portrait, at least he would have someone to talk to, to keep him company, even if it was only a picture.

As the Professor got ready for the night, his mind strayed to Harry. "_Potter, _NOT '_Harry'!" _he scolded himself out loud, desperately trying to convince himself to call the detested brat 'Potter', as he had always done, but succumbed to the onslaught of memories in which he had called the boy by his surname, and the hurt and slightly offended, if maybe curious, look in the boy's eyes when he had done so. There was surprisingly many of them. This didn't shock him, as he knew full well that he used the boys surname every time he had the chance to talk to him.

He winced at the thought that he had hurt Lily's only child multiple times, but forced the mask of neutrality upon his face and heart, which was by now used to the sudden changes of emotion.

"There, that's better" he said as he felt the familiar feeling of expressionlessness return. He crossed the hallway into his bedroom, where he edged under his covers and closed his eyes. 'Why am I thinking of Har-Potter- again?' he thought before falling into of the black void of his surreal dreams, where he was looking into the Mirror of Erised, only to fall into it and get stuck in it for ever.

The next morning, which was a Friday, Severus billowed into the Great Hall, much like always, but without his usual frostiness. Oh it was still there alright, but slightly covered with a layer of concern. Even without having to glare at every table in the Hall, he sufficiently quietened the whole room with just his presence. The now very familiar smirk slid onto his face, although he was not feeling like making a cutting remark to _anyone_ at the moment, even if that someone was a certain Harry Potter, who was once again sitting in his circle of fourth year friends, who were all purposely focused on their food, all except Harry. Snape caught his eyes for a single moment, and in that single moment, memories rained down on him; the memories of himself, his eyes, after his father had given him a beating. 'Wait… Did this mean that Harry, *cough*-Potter, had been abused? The Amazing Golden Boy, The Great Gryffindork, The Boy-Who-Lived, being abused_?_' Somehow the teacher couldn't imagine the Great Golden Gryffindor being abused.

He decided to investigate that matter further when he finally got to sit down. For now he was content with furiously studying the pain, hurt, and sadness that had flashed through the child's eyes, before they had been quickly replaced with anger and hate, which Snape knew was directed at him.

Once Snape had sat down at the Head Table, the chatter quickly returned to its normal level of noise, filled with many conversations ranging from Quidditch to toenails, and from that to Thestrals. For a moment or two, Snape tried listening on some conversations to see if he could learn anything new about what was going on around the castle, but all he found out was a part of a third-year Ravenclaws study schedule.

"Sounds like a zoo" remarked Snape, his tone slightly amused, but mostly annoyed, to the teacher sitting next to him, which turned out to be Professor McGonagall.

"Come on Severus, it's nearly the end of year, they have plenty to talk about, with Harry winning the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Give them a break for once, Sev." Minerva yelled over the ruckus the students were making. She was one of the few people Severus had permitted to call him 'Sev' and she didn't like to miss an occasion to use the nickname.

Snape snorted. He was proud that Hogwarts had won the Tournament, but was completely horrified at what happened at the end of it, and the terror Harry – _no, Potter – _was subject to. He still couldn't figure out why he cared if the boy _was_ murdered by Voldemort at all. '_Because you see yourself in him…' _whispered a little voice in the back of his head, causing Snape to bury it with other unwanted thoughts.

During the whole of the breakfast, the teacher kept a close eye on Harry, but not for the reasons you may think. The concern that he had pushed away as he entered the hall came flooding back to him.

'That boy seriously needs to eat more' thought Severus when he spotted how thin Harry was, and how little he ate. He was practically a stick on legs. 'Maybe he has an eating disorder' and other possibilities swirled around his head as he subconsciously ate his breakfast, which consisted of fruit salad with cream and his usual coffee. That thought was one of the less prominent ones, because Snape figured that he would have told a teacher, or even the school Mediwitch, Madam Pomfrey, that he had troubles eating.

Another idea rose up from the depths of his mind, where he had buried it a few weeks back. 'Was Potter being… _abused?_' He eyed the boy uncertainly; trying to figure out if that might be true. Many thoughts of denying that appeared in his head: 'Dumbledore wouldn't put the Boy-Who-Lived with abusive relatives, would he?' or 'The prat would have told someone, seeing as he can't seem to stop trying to be in the centre of attention', but he hasn't heard anything from either students or teachers. Snape shook his head, hoping to clear it of its muddled thoughts, but only succeeding in getting a migraine.

The day passed slowly, and by the time last period ended, which Severus had with fifth years, he was nearly climbing the walls from frustration.

'Salazar's grey beard, how much longer will I have to endure this Hell… actually I think Hell would be better than this…' Thoughts like this passed sluggishly through his mind, which was half-dead from all the stupid statements and made up facts he had to hear today.

"Do you little dunderheads really think I believe you? Wolfsbane Potion was made to treat rabid wolves? That's new to me" He felt a good, satisfactory feeling as his students hung their heads in shame over their poorly written essays.

"Last time I checked Wolfsbane was made to treat lycanthropy, _not rabid wolves" _The last part was said frustratingly calmly, to give the students a feel of how angry he was. Snape found that this technique worked best, even if most of the pupils were now able to judge his temper just by his tone of voice. If he shouted, his anger was plain, and gave the students no feeling of remorse, as many of them had learnt to block out shouting as well as he Occluded. So the eerie calmness in his voice made the students jumpy and fidgety, not knowing what to expect.

He kept lecturing the group of Gryffindor's for another few minutes, but his tiredness took over, and he dismissed them without a detention, no doubt giving them a new thing to gossip about.

By the time he got to the portrait guarding his quarters he nearly collapsed from exhaustion. But as he took the first step towards the entrance to his rooms, his feet struck something solid, successfully tripping him up.

A soft series of 'oof!' sounds as well as "Great Merlin!" escaped his lips as he fell face-first on the cold stone. He lay still for a few minutes, just to make sure that the thing he tripped over wasn't alive, before cracking open an obsidian eye, determined to find the cause of his fall.

The black eyes widened in shock as he laid eyes on the battered and bruised boy with a lightning scar that lay curled up in front of his quarters.

He rushed over to the still form to check for a pulse, putting two fingers on his wrist, just as he had been taught during his basic training as a Healer. He forced his normally steady hand to go still, as a shaky hand definitely did not help while checking for a pulse.

He found none.


	2. Tea with the Headmaster and Headmistress

**A/N ****I would like to thank Mia Foster for my first review! It just made me so damn happy, it made my day, thank you **

My brain stopped for a moment as it slowly comprehended what this meant. The Great Harry Potter was dead, and with him the chance of Voldemort's demise, and following that was Severus' chance of ever having a normal family. Not that he wanted one anyway; everything close to him had died, that much he had learnt over the years.

**POV CHANGE**

I reached out my hand in order to touch the boy, just to confirm I wasn't hallucinating from all the coffee I drank this morning. The nearly translucent skin was freezing to the touch, and my fingers came away bloodied. Blood. The sight of it triggered something in my brain. I snapped out of my daze and carefully levitated him up to carry the body to the Hospital Wing. That was the right place to go with a corpse. Wait… No. I might be wrongly accused of murder, as it was well known that I tended to snap at Harr- _Potter!- _every chance I got, and all the students still milling around the corridors would probably turn white with shock to see the despised dungeon bat carrying the corpse of the Boy who lived.

By the time my brain slowly slid out of its trance, I was half way down the corridor, and had to turn back and jog back to my rooms. I would do something about the body there. I reached the portrait once more, whispered the password, which was_ Feraxim Vernacaea,_ and put the boy – no, _corpse_- on the nearest couch, which was a warm, cosy brown colour.

I took a step back and sighed. There was truly nothing I could do, no matter how much I wanted that kid to be alive again, even though he was so annoying at times.

The small, crumpled form in front of me was slightly underfed, and the pale skin was peppered with bruises, cuts, and scars of various sizes and ages. His head was propped up against a pillow on one of my chocolaty brown couches, and his skinny arms were lying at odd angles by his sides.

His skin had an odd waxen colour, glistening dully in the light from the fire, which was dancing merrily, despite the grave situation.

His brilliant green eyes were wide with shock, probably. His hair was a raven's nest as always, and his broken glasses lay crookedly on his scarred face.

Those eyes. Lily's eyes. The last eyes with that exact shade of emerald green, were now dead, and would never look at anyone in that joyous way, so bursting with life, so happy...

This made me frustrated. Who in Hogwarts would _dare_ to even touch a single hair on the Boy-Who -Lived head? That person, I thought, or _people,_ must be seriously batty to do something like that, but I still had conjured up a list in my head, of possibly guilty people, both students and teachers.

What would everyone think of this? Their Great Gryffindor, dead? Youngest Seeker in a century, suddenly dead? Oh, Merlin, Albus will blame me so badly! Then I'll be accused of murder, then I'll be sacked, then I won't be able to get a job… Then only downhill from there.

I can't let them know. I have to hide the body. Yes, that's what I'll do…. No. That's a bad idea. If I do that I'll have to make up some story as to why The Boy-Who-Lived dropped dead. Nope, that is definitely a disastrous idea. I should just tell them, but how? A letter is too casual to inform Albus and Minerva of Harry's death, to bring the body to their doors is just… well… a bad idea.

I should just invite them over, under the excuse of discussing an important matter over tea, but that was technically the truth, so… tea it is.

"Salazar's saggy underwear, Albus and Minerva, _over for tea?_ What has gotten into me lately… first caring for the brat… then finding him dead… now Albus and Minerva coming over, for _tea?_ I must be going crazy" I mumbled to no one in particular, seeing as no one would want to waste their time talking to the dungeon bat anyway.

**********PAGE BREAK**********

The same night Albus and Minerva came over for tea.

Severus was reclined in one of his brown armchairs, reading a Muggle mystery novel, which he enjoyed, despite the stupidity of some characters. But really, would someone expect a serial killer to just call out 'Hey, I'm in the kitchen, want a sandwich?' when someone says 'Hello? Is anyone there?'

He had put Harry's body in one of his rooms, a particular one with a permanent Freezing Charm on it, to keep it from decomposing; he needed the body for evidence of the death.

Just as he was about to turn the page to begin a new chapter, a soft knock came from the door. The magical scroll hanging on his doors lit up with an eerie green light, instantly inscribing the name '_Albus Percival Wulfrick Brian Dumbledore' _in fancy cursive writing, making Severus sigh, as he was tired of seeing that particular name on the enchanted parchment. Accompanying the damnably long name was Minerva's, ' _Minerva Ealasaid McGonagall', _ But even the thought of enduring those damned twinkles in Dumbledore's blue eyes could not deter his mind from the fact that this was important, very much so.

He got up quickly, not wanting to keep the Headmaster, Headmistress, or the issue, waiting.

"Come in, Albus, Minerva" Severus replied, with a hint of resignation in his voice, as he neared the door, which opened as he came closer.

"Ah, hello, Severus, my dear boy!" Albus cheered merrily, his damned eyes twinkling like mad.

Minerva greeted him too, with a more controlled "Hello, Severus"

Severus acknowledged them with a nod of his head, and said "Welcome Albus, Minerva. I have a very important matter to discuss with you both. It concerns our young hero. I suppose you know who I'm talking about?" Here he looked both at Minerva and Albus pointedly.

"Why yes Severus, you must be talking about our dear Harry. Has something significant happened?" inquired Dumbledore. Minerva spoke next.

"What now, Severus? Is it really that important that you had to call us here at this ungodly hour?" Here Minerva was wrong, according to Severus. It was only around 22:00, but Minerva was an older woman, so this must be quite late for her, he deduced. Merlin, he should have thought about this, but he couldn't go back now.

"Well. It really is, and before you say it, no, he hasn't got himself an exceptionally bad detention, nor has he behaved like an incorrigible brat, or blown up my lab, though I wouldn't have put it past him."

"Wait." Minerva interrupted him. "What do you mean, 'wouldn't _have _put it past him? He's alive isn't he? He should be, I saw him only hours ago…" She trailed of awkwardly, catching sight of the serious expression on Severus' face.

Dumbledore burst out laughing.

"Severus, my boy, you must be joking, no way in Arthur, Salazar, and Merlin himself that Harry could be dead… Great joke, Severus, I'm happy that you finally got a sense of humour"

Minerva still had her doubts, as the expression on Severus' face has not changed. She gave an anxious laugh." H-he's a-alive, right? Severus?"

Severus gave an annoyed sigh. Could they not believe him? He thought he had laid the truth out simply enough, but he figured they would need some more evidence. They just didn't want to believe what they didn't want to believe.

He gave them a slightly cross look, and then beckoned the elder two to follow him. He went down a corridor to the left of the living room, and took the first door to the left, where he kept all his potion ingredients which required a low temperature, like Frost Raven Feathers, Bergamoth powder, and Cubchoo fur.

Dumbledore and Minerva obediently followed the Potions Master down the corridor, and stopped by a large metal door, where Severus stood.

"Be prepared for what you see" Severus felt he ought to give them a fair warning, just in case they would faint or do whatever old people did in a shock. He cracked the door open, and a cold white mist swirled around their ankles, chilling them to the bone.

He opened the door fully, allowing the blast of freezing air blow into their faces, causing frost to settle on tendrils of loose hair, such as Albus' long silver beard. The sight that met the little group would never leave their memories. Minerva paled considerably, bearing a resemblance to the Grey Lady, and Severus just looked back and forth between them, trying to decipher their expressions. Minerva looked positively scared, and was whispering prayers in Gaelic, while Dumbledore's face remained impassive, as if he wasn't even affected in any way.

It seemed that the corpse of the Boy-Who Lived had absolutely no impact on the old man. The corpse was lying in the middle of the room, which was lined with frozen ingredients, and looked as if it was just sleeping, if not for the lack of breathing and pulse. His once-bright eyes were still open, but they were gazing unseeingly into a world that the living could only dream of.

Then Dumbledore started laughing once more.

"Ah, Severus, my boy, what an elaborate joke you have made! Once again, I'm glad that you have succeeded to gain a sense of humour, even if it is such a sickly one. Really, I thought he was really dead for a moment! You can take the Illusion Charm off now, Severus" Dumbledore requested.

When Severus failed to act, Dumbledore ceased his chuckling and met the disbelieving stares of Severus and Minerva.

"Minerva, you don't really believe this, do you?" Dumbledore asked wearily, casting a questioning look at Severus.

Minerva started speaking "Albus, what do you think you are doing, laughing over Harry's dead body, being downright disrespectful! Let me explain this for you, Albus, as it seems you are incapable of seeing and believing" She scolded. "Listen to this, Dumbledore. Here is Harry's' body, not a Glamour, Illusion, or trick of light. It is real, as I have checked for all these things, as well as any dark magic. Severus has placed it here, so it would not decompose from the heat. Do you understand that now, Albus?" By the time Minerva was not as pale as before, though her eyes now bore a haunted look about them.

Her short lecture seemed to have gotten through to the old wizard, as the smile vanished from his face as he performed various revealing spells and charms, without any success. His wrinkled face turned grave, his eyes dulled from their twinkling azure blue to a dark, worried navy colour.

Severus stayed silent during this whole exchange, standing politely to the side, letting Minerva go on a little rant, and Dumbledore to take the news of the death in.

But all heads were suddenly turned to the corpse.

A cough resounded around the icy room, amplifying its volume. The corpse, whose skin didn't possess a bluish tinge anymore, rose to a sitting position, its limbs still as lifeless as before. To Severus, the whole thing looked as if Harry was a puppet, and his puppet master was pulling at his strings.

Eyes still unseeing, the corpse spoke, with white, misty breath swirling around its head, and long, canine fangs protruding from its mouth.


End file.
